The Return
by Megan Martian
Summary: In order to return the Amphibian Man to the Amazon, Elisa and her friends must rely on the defected Doctor for their safety and security. (A slight AU in which Doctor Hoffstetler answers Zelda's call and the events after.)
1. The Rains of Change

This chapter as well as the next one will include some background events and information that will be slightly AU and then will continue on in a "What happens next" type of thing.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy. :)

I will be posting more frequently to my Ao3 page /works/17554157

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Chapter 1: The Rains of Change

Sunlight glistened along the white sloping sides of the _Pride of the Sea_ , somehow reflecting the ecstatic delight of the passengers as they boarded the ramp onto the cruise ship's deck. The skies were somehow too clear, for this Autumn day, the wind itself betraying its message of an icy December.

Cries of excited chatter erupted among the throng of passengers all waiting to escape Baltimore's cruel promises of a white Christmas. One wouldn't need a sharp knife to cut the energy.

However, across the dock, in a small diner filled with sailors and tourists alike sitting amongst the tables and the bar. All were talking excitedly about the coming voyage to South America. The only ones not sharing that same excitement were Elisa Esposito and her best friends, Giles and Zelda. All three sat in the booth closest to the door next to the window where they could have a clear view of the street outside. Suitcases were stuffed under the table, between their legs, coffees remained untouched between them. The mute woman tried keeping her fingers from twitching focuses on folding and refolding her napkin.

Finally, out of the collective silence between them, Giles, as always, was the first to break it, "I'll be the first to say it. I don't think this will work."

The other two gave him a piercing looks and stared a them, hands up in a placating gesture, "What? I'm being serious! Something bad is going to happen! You know what they say? _Man plans and God Laughs_. Right?"

Zelda rolled her eyes before huffing, "Giles, you got to believe this will work! Dmit- _Bob,_ has everything under control."

Elisa nodded fervently and reached across the table to grip Giles had, a comforting gesture. At least she believed so. Giles on the other hand whimpered and made a face. "But, how do we know we can trust him? I mean, I don't know if you've read the news, but we are still in the Cold War, and—"

"Lower your voice!" Zelda hissed with a look over her shoulder.

They leaned in as he continued, "-and what if this is just one big... I don't know... episonage...thing?"

Elisa let out a sigh and shook her head. She loved her friend and neighbor, but he could worry himself sick. A month of careful planning, the late-night talks, plan B and C scenarios, back and forth, back and forth, the discussions went until they finally came up with a fool proof plan that they could all could agree on. The woman took a shaky breath and tried to keep her anxiety from showing.

But she also couldn't help but hear what he was suggesting. What if this was really a trap? No. no she had to believe in the doctor. If she couldn't trust him, what hope was there for The Amphibian Man?

 _We'll just have to figure it out if it comes to that. I will not go back on my promise._ Finally, she gave into her nerves and for perhaps the umpteenth time this day she touched her neck and felt for the new-found ridges of flesh. They were, yet again, laid flat on the surface of her skin, as if they were once again the perceived scars, she had always believed they were. The other two murmured in front of her, something about repeating the plan _once more_ , to make sure all went as it should, but she could barely hear them; their voices fading into the background as she soon melted back into _that night._

October tenth; the night of the storm. It began bitter-sweet; they were on their way to release the Amphibian Man back to the sea, her heart breaking with every step they took, with every mile that brought them closer to the docks. There was no time for sincere heartfelt goodbyes. No time for… for...well, anything. The Asset was in terrible danger and if they stayed together, he will never be safe. No matter how much pain it caused her to think about his absence.

Elisa remembered the weight of him laying against her chest as they rode in the car, convinced that this would be the last time she held him: her fairy tale prince. At the time, he struggled to breathe, wheezing and choking from lack of his home environment. She would tighten her arms around him and nestled her nose into his neck, being careful to avoid his gills. He would gently twitter to her in return.

" _It's ok…"_ She imagined him telling her, _"I will be fine."_ Of course, this did nothing to lessen her heavy heart, but she stifled a sob anyway. As the tears fell to his abdomen, he would weakly clutch her hand, more concerned for her than she was of him apparently. Somehow that hurt her more than it should have, and she choked back a whimper.

Of course, the real heartbreak was only to come. The shock of seeing red blossoming from her lover was enough to stun her from feeling the bullet ripping through her as well. Fire erupted through her, she fell to her knees, just barely heard Giles calling out to her.

She tried to cry out, but only a hoarse whisper escaped. He was so close. He was almost free from this terrible world. Her prince laid there next to her, arm extended towards her. _No…_

" _You and me together."_ He had said. He wanted to stay with her. To be only with her. Elisa gasped and reach out, closing the gap between them. _You and me together._ She thought, gasping and clinging to his clawed and webbed hand. Quickly, almost too soon, her limbs began to feel heavy, her vision blurred, dimming around the edges, until in the last possible moment, only his Piscean face lingered before it too succumbed to the blackness of infinity.

 _Together._

Elisa felt it, more than she heard it. The cold bleakness of her landscape yielding nothing to her sense.

 _You and me together._

She tried to make sense of her surroundings, but everything felt muted, muffled, only a loud numbing roar of _tic-tic-tics._

She tried to move, arms feeling heavy and stiff.

 _You and me._

She felt it again, consoled. With almost dream like understanding, she tried to move towards it. _I want to come back. Please. Let me come back._

There was a tightness in her chest. The burning sensation had vanished now only to be replaced by one of desperation. Her body felt constricted. _I can't breathe!_ She screamed in her mind.

Chest hurting, she moved her head. The _tic-tic-tic_ sound ever present, growing louder, quickly becoming unbearable.

Finally, just as she couldn't stand it, Elisa opened her mouth for air.

The saltwater was icy cold, filling her lungs, and she gagged as the distinct taste of motor oil (among other disgusting flavors) bombarded her taste buds. It was purely, utterly disgusting. _I am going to die,_ she quickly rationalized, fear chilling her to the bone.

Her body began to spasm, fighting to live. _Please no, I want to live! Don't let me go!_ As she felt her lungs try to push the water out, a strange sensation occurred along the scars on her neck – the only way she could adequately describe it was a kind of… _pop!_ Instantly the feeling of cold brine pushed through the multiple slits of skin beneath each ear in a smooth and steady stream.

Her eyes flew open in surprise stunned with the sudden implications of what this meant. _I- what? I can breathe?_

Dark orb-like eyes gazed before her, glinting with approval and she blinked. She pulled water in again, and exhaled, feeling it flow out again, the tightness leaving her completely. _I am breathing? How is…?_ She searched the eyes of her lover, He made a small twitter sound before pulling her into his arms, a feeling of profound relief radiating off him in small lights on his shoulders.

Elisa blinked the fuzz out of her vision as her eyes adjusted to the underwater atmosphere. _How is this possible?_ She glanced up at the surface, discovering that the constant tic-tic-ticing came from the rain showering onto the surface of the water above meters above them. She could also make out red and blue flashing lights – _police!_ A beam of white light began to spot light through the murky water. _What do we do, now?_

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Notes:

This is a little something I've been kicking around since I saw the movie in 2017. I just figure I'd fix it up a bit and just toss it out here for you to see. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry if it seems a little redundant. I am trying my best. I certainly would appreciate any comments or constructive criticism as this is an exercise to help me get better at writing in general. I am thinking on putting in some mature elements in future chapters when the time comes so please be prepared for that.

Otherwise I look forward to hearing for you!


	2. At The Crossroads

There is some mention of violence and blood, but only in an AU retelling of the rain scene at the factory. Not spelled out explicitly but in case you get squicked out. there is some mention of hunting/trapping for animal furs, but that is the kind of thing that would have happened back in Soviet Russia. it's not in gritty detail so hopefully, it won't bother you too much.

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Chapter 2: At The Crossroads

 _Hours before._

Thunder rolled overhead as Hoffstetler, no, _Dimitri Mosenkov_ , packed the last of the evidence of his stay in this safehouse. Like the storm, regret tossed and turned, rumbling within him as he thought of The Amphibian Man. He wondered how he was doing, if… If he was even _doing_ still.

He looked up from his briefcase and watched the rain through the blinds of the window. This would have been the perfect night for Esposito and Fuller to fulfill their promise. _"When the rain fills the canal that flows to the sea."_ Zelda had interpreted.

 _"You are a good man."_ Elisa had signed to him that night and he wished he could believe her.

He wished for a lot of things in that moment in the now empty living room.

He wished he had more time to study the creature. He wished he wasn't such a coward as to let that _муда́к_ Richard Strickland walk all over him. He wished his spymaster did not given him reason to suddenly doubt his position, his safety, his government, his homeland. He wished now more than ever that he could have seen the Asset one more time. To study it's physiological being, its relationship to humankind.

To be able to answer the one question that most buzzed through his mind; could it be possible that _It_ is the next link in human evolution, or could it be a relic of mankind crawling out of the sea? _Oh, the very secrets He holds._

Hoffstetler closed his eyes and sighed. _What happens now?_

After his last meeting with his spymaster, Mihalkov and that bodyguard… he was now uncertain of his place with his brethren, with Mother Russia.

He chewed the inside of his lip, watching the rain once more _._ Was he certain that he could withstand the ramifications of desertion? Treason was never forgiven. His throat tightened at the thought of the outcome. No. it would be better in the long run if he were to forget the Asset. The study was finished. He must move on.

Resigned, Dimitri yanked suitcase with more force than needed, swinging it with him as he trudged to towards the door of his temporary home.

Yet, just after he locked the door and turned towards the exit, he heard it. The phone within the empty room ringing. He instantly remembered giving Zelda his card when he gave Elisa the box of salt.

Hoffstetler stood there, staring at the round doorknob; here stands a doctor at the crossroads.

Although the phone was muffled by the door, it sounded as thunderous as the storm overheard. The scientist glanced down the hall of the apartment building. It seemed to stretch for miles, cold and empty, with bright florescent lights somehow adding to the uncertainty of what waited for him should he return to his comrades. He remembered the fear when they met him last. The very memory left him uneasy, his stomach turning some more.

Would that be his future? To always and forever be looking over his shoulder, to never knowing who was and who wasn't safe to confide to?

The phone, like the siren's song called out to him from within.

What was the other alternative? If this _was_ Fuller, if she were to seek his help with the release of the Amphibious Man, to miss his extraction window… where would that leave him? To live a life as a traitor? To be hunted down like an animal, _destroyed_ like one if captured? But this could mean the possibility of seeing the creature one more time, to question its existence, no matter how brief the meeting.

Unbidden, he was suddenly struck with a memory from his childhood. His father had been a trapper for the government; capturing animals for their furs to sell. One winter, he went along with his father, to check the outcome of the traps they had set previously. His father had become distracted with one that a bear had destroyed, and so he sent young Dimitri to check on the next one, just a few meters further along the trail.

He remembered how cold the snow was as he trudged through it, each step a loud crunch. the numbness in his feet and the tingling in his hands; the mittens were decent, but they could not keep the bite of winter out. He had been thinking about his schoolmates and what his mother would be cooking for supper when he heard a muffled scuffle. Dimitri froze instantly, suddenly reminded of a protentional bear. He wished he had his father's gun.

After a moment's silence he took a cautious step, trying to keep the sound of his steps as silent as possible.

 _Crunch._

No such luck. Another scuffle sounded, this time behind the bush in front of him. Between two trees, he could see the dark fur of a mature sable darting back and forth in circles, the obvious source of the sounds. He let out the breath he had been holding in relief. _I hope Papa didn't see…_ After a brief investigation, the child quickly identified the reason; a snare that had been improperly set, the weasel like animal was still alive but the one of its paws was captured, pinned down to the snow, it could just barely move, emitting a strain squeak from the struggle.

Dimitri disliked the sound. He felt his heart sinking from the scene. The beady black eyes of the marten wide with terror and suffering, it's gasps shallow and rapid. He was not a squeamish child and would often help with the more unsavory aspects of rural farm life; slaughtering animals never sat well with him, much to his family's annoyance. The young boy clenched his fists and unclenched them, worried.

He looked back at the way he had come, his father was out of hearing range, but the boy knew that he will be following up shortly. Should he find the animal, he would make quick work to humanely kill it to preserve its fur. The child understood the reasoning behind the practice but could not accept it.

What should he do? Release the creature and face the consequences should his father find out or should he allow the animal to perish for the continued comfort that the Soviet Union provides for this enterprise. Here stands the boy at the crossroads.

 _"A man is no man, if he stands by and allows others to suffer,"_ His father once told him during a hunt, after quickly putting his prey out of its misery, _"best to step in and be quick with it, my son."_

In the distance behind him, he could hear his father humming an old Russian melody, slowly growing louder.

The boy made his decision then. He stumbled forward quickly. The sable panicked and began to squeal even louder, but Dimitri was quick and efficient. He helped his father release snares plenty of times. Within a few hurried breaths, the faulty snare trap was released, the squirming sable now free and writhing in his hand!

Without a moment's hesitation, he released it into a bush nearby, "Go! Go now! _Shoo!_ " he hissed to the creature, waving his arms to scare it off.

A moment later, his father arrived, frozen pelts slung on his shoulder, "Anything, my son?"

The boy shook his head with a gesture at the loose snare. "Nyeat, Papa... It looks like the bear got into this one as well..."

The ringing of the phone brought him out of his reverie and the now Soviet spy quickly considered his options. Strickland was out there searching for the creature. If that custodian is the caller… It could be possible that they need his help and expertise with it… or perhaps the crazed lunatic has found it and is on the verge of destroying such an… intricate and beautiful thing… perhaps even in the most _inhumane_ way possible…

Here stands a man at the crossroads…

He answered the phone mid-ring, "Y-yes?"

Mrs. Fuller on the other end was frantic, _"Doctor Hoffst- Dimitri! Oh Jesus, he-he's sick - I think? I think he's dying!"_

Not even a minute later, he dropped the phone back in its cradle, Hoffstetler took off down the hall. Running down the stairs, all thoughts culminating into one; the creature still lives - at least for now! He may have one more chance to help still.

Quickly, the doctor jumped into his car, shoving his suitcase haphazardly in the passenger seat.

Gripping the steering wheel, he peeled off through the rain, exhilaration flooding through him at a renewed sense of worth. He knew where he was needed!

Rain pelted his windshield and he did his best to remain calm and drive carefully through the city streets. However, wasn't until he was halfway across the city when he noticed it; someone was following him.

Stopping at a red light, Dimitri studied the reflection in his rearview mirror. It was difficult to make out, sure, but it was Flemings car… however _Fleming_ wasn't the one driving it. Headlights illuminated the white wrappings on the left hand; Richard Strickland.

Dimitri swore in his mother tongue and almost missed the green light before slowly stepping on the gas.

 _What do I do?_ He thought, chewing on the inside of his lip once more. Judging by Zelda's directions, he was nearing to the Orpheum theater.

 _Need to shake him… but how? I could use him as an excuse to avoid the pickup… Now there's a thought…_ Instead of making the turn towards the Movie theater, he made the opposite and head towards the familiar destination on the outskirts of town... The cement plant where he was supposed to rendezvous with his comrades; perhaps they will be able to take care of the American for him? That could work.

With every twist and turn he made, Strickland kept pace, swerving every so often while doing so. The doctor briefly reflected on the man's decreasing health. At their last meeting, the colonel was sweating profusely, paranoia etched in every labored breath and sideways glance. Hoffstetler had noticed the blackness in those damaged fingers, the stench of decaying flesh hung thickly around him like a aura of menace.

 _Sepsis._ He surmised with a frown. _Life threatening if he does not seek medical treatment. But then again._ He glanced into his rearview once more _, perhaps Richard Strickland won't have to worry about that for much longer._

The storm seemed be at it's furious; the rain pummeled down in waves now, the car hydroplaned every so often leaving Hoffstetler to drive white knuckled. Meanwhile, Strickland tailed him still and the doctor began to feel uneasy again. The further they drove outside of the safety of the city, the more insecure he felt about this haphazard plan.

Doubts swirled around in his restless mind; What if this doesn't work? What if Strickland continues to follow him throughout the night? What if he misses his chance with the Asset, all the while missing his window with Mihalkov? What will become of him then; an enemy of the Soviet Union, an enemy of America? No matter what, he will always be a marked man.

The turn for the road to the plant loomed near and Hoffstetler sucked in a deep breath; it was now or never.

Slamming a foot on the brake and jerking the steering wheel to the right, the man was flung to the left as the tail of his car fishtailed a wide arc across the road. He didn't have time to look back to see if Strickland managed to dodge or not before he stepped on the gas and took off down the gravel road.

The wagon, groaned and struggled on the flooded road, making it very difficult to steer as the doctor rushed towards the rendezvous point. His heart jumped the moment he did chance looking in his mirror to see the colonel gaining behind, worried that he may try to run him right of the very road! The prospect of being left to die in a muddy ditch was a very real outcome by this point.

Another turn was coming up and he remembered a darkly shadowed drive that followed right after in a hidden hook and sped forward, instantly swerved into it. It wasn't even a blink after killing the engine off that he saw Strickland in a flash of white and red fly past him, continuing down toward the cement plant.

Fear choked Dimitri and he gasp for air. The rain roared against the car, and while it there was a noticeable chill in the air, he felt claustrophobic now and so held his fist over his mouth to keep himself from vomiting. He was now trembling violently. _Hold it together… Hold it together!_ There was a time and a place to get sick later.

Assuming enough distance had passed he made for a much slower pace down the drive without his head lights, using the red taillights of the predator now in front of him as a guide. The cement plant loomed ahead, the halo of its lights his guide. During the past month, it had represented safety and security to the doctor; now with the fluorescent spot light and the flooded terrain, it somehow struck Dimitri as deadly and forbidding. He watched as the deluded Colonel swerved to a stop behind the familiar black car of his team.

He pulled up a great distance away, looking down from a high vantage point off the road and watched intently.

Strickland was not out of the car and staring at the black car ahead of him as the guard came out to meet him. Dimitri swallowed, hoping that this was the end of the Colonel.

Both men looked to be arguing, with a third, the driver of the black car, also climbing out of the vehicle. Both he and the guard reached for the weapon at their sides, but the American was too quick; the doctor covered his ears and looked away as shots rang out like thunderclaps.

From the relative safety of his car, the doctor swore to himself and allowed the fear to take control and banged his head against the steering wheel. _No, n-no, no…_ He looked back up. Strickland was kneeling over the big guard in the rain and was violently interrogating him against a small sand dune. Tears of guilt welled in his eyes over his fallen comrades, "This can't be happening."

His plan, albeit a short sighted one, backfired dramatically. He chanced a look and his stomach turned at the very savagery of Strickland's questioning of the guard. His window of freedom slamming shut before his very eyes. However, he was thankful that he could not hear the confessions.

Although it only took a few minutes, it felt like hours before Strickland was done with his torments and Hoffstetler held his breath as the Colonel sped off back the way he had come, swerving like a madman. He waited till his pursuer was well gone before driving down to the plant and carefully exited his vehicle.

Rain soaked him instantly as he sloshed through the flooded terrain, he ran to the car and found the driver slumped dead across the front seat. _Damn._ He then ran to the burly handler, who had been drugged and leaned against a sand dune. He let out a shout of surprised when the bloodied man groaned when he came close

"Ivan!" Dimitri whispered, gently shaking him. Dismay and relief tumulted within him. What did he tell Strickland?

The burly guard coughed and wheezed. His life washing away into the murk. "Dimitri?"

"Da." The doctor swallowed, trying to keep the sick down. "Ivan… that man… What did you tell that American?"

Rain splattered down Ivan's swollen bearded face and he coughed again and winced, his mouth was red. "He… he was asking for you… Dimitri what have you done?"

The doctor ducked his head in shame. "E-Easy comrade, I-I was on my way to meet you here, when Strickland followed—"

"Bastard…" the man whispered and weakly fisted the doctor's coat, pulling him closer, "You're supposed to be…"

Dimitri nodded, "You saved me. I thank you, comrade. Do you know where I am supposed to meet Mihalkov now? A contingency plan?"

Ivan shook his head feebly, "…No extraction _…_ No con… _tingency_ … _You…_ are to die _. Mihalkov_ ordered it _."_

The doctor stopped short and stared down at the other, falling rain and mixed with the blood, washing it away as it slowly began to stop flowing. "What do you mean?"

Ivan groaned and hacked up more blood, wheezing again before continuing, "You are… _dead man_ … Mosenkov… Dead… man…"

Hoffstetler shook his head in disbelief. His… His own people… wanted to _kill_ him? "This… can't be! Ivan, tell me, what have I done?"

Raising a shaky finger, Ivan pointed at him. "…Betrayed… Mikalhov… Betrayed _Soviet_ …"

"Nyeat! _No!_ I did no such thing! Ivan you must _believe me_! Where can I find Mihalkov?" but Dimitri could only watch in frantic desperation as Ivan let out one last breath and fell silent forever.

He couldn't believe it. But… He'd done _everything_ for Mihalkov. For his government… His homeland…

As the weight of the truth sank in the guilt he felt instantly dissolved in his stomach, and righteous indignation took its place. He could no longer feel the cold from the storm as he rose to his feet, staring down at the killer. If he had never picked up that phone call, if he had never noticed the Colonel following him… would he be in Ivan's place, dead in the rain, his life's essence mixing with the muddy water, nothing more than a closed account to his spymasters?

 _Yes._ He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked at the getaway car and mulled over these revelations. He knew he was playing with fire, Mihalkov pretty much spelled it out for him at the safehouse when he and Ivan visited just a few days prior. He orchestrated this whole thing. Maybe somehow, he was the one to involve Strickland? That seemed like a stretch but after what Ivan told him, anything could be possible, couldn't it?

Regardless, he was alive, for now, and Strickland is off his scent… _for now._ The doctor chewed the inside of his lip, thinking. The Colonel would be on his way to look for the Amphibian Man… When the doctor received the call from Fuller, she had told him that they would be releasing him at the docks… Strickland could intersect them!

With that in mind, Hoffstetler charged for the extraction car. After a quick investigation, he found files and other such paraphernalia with his identities and whereabouts on them. His mouth twisted at the sight and he quickly swallowed the thought of Mihalkov sending more killers to check on Ivan and his driver and discovering his own body missing among the body count.

He needed to get away and fast; Checking the trunk, he investigated the luggage and was stunned to find a bag full of stacks of neatly wrapped American bills. He held one up and thumbed the edges. One of US's founding fathers stared back up hundreds of times in order. At first glance, there had to be several thousands of dollars here. He could count later if his luck continues throughout the night. He swallowed and searched in a separate bag, finding several passports and documents for different kinds of identities for his fellow spies.

Mouth dry, he continued searching, hoping, _praying_ that his studies of the creature would be here, above all things. Quickly he dug through luggage after luggage looking for his black journal only to be met with defeat.

Slamming his fist against the money bag he let out a frustrated curse. he realized that out of everything, that was the one piece of information he truly wanted above all else.

This meant that Mihalkov still had it. And the doctor cursed out loud again. He'll have to deal with that later. Right now, he needed to act fast to keep Strickland from hunting down the creature on his own!

His only hope was that he was choosing the right path of this crossroads.

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Thank you for the Kudos! How do you like it so far? I know a lot of it is basically retelling but I hope it kind of lays out the foundations of what I plan to happen.

Please leave a comment!


	3. Groundswell

I wanted to post this weeks ago, but with school and work it makes it a bit difficult. I also wanted to do some research on the social events that were going on in this time period. I hope you enjoy.

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Present day.

As inconspicuous as she could, Zelda Fuller glanced at her wrist watch and stifled a sigh; thirty minutes after the promised arrival time and it was getting close for the _Pride_ to set off for South America. The trip itinerary had read that the time of departure would be 10AM _sharp_ , and it was now bordering on 9:25.

The maid had never been on an ocean-liner before, hell, the most time she had spent on the water was fishing with her daddy in the summer. But that was on the creek, and Daddy would be the one rowing; she felt safe then. Secure.

Although she was certain that the expressed purpose for The Pride of the Sea was rest and relaxation in top of the line luxury suites, being waited upon on hand and foot by crew members. This would be a dream come true for anyone, but all she could feel was a sense of dread. When she was little, Daddy would sit her on his knee and tell her all about the how their ancestors were brought to America; while this may not be some slavers ship, all the same, she felt reservations about it.

 _If only Daddy could see me now._ She thought with a snort. _Separated from Brewster and about dive headfirst into some serious shit._

In these times, it wasn't considered normal for someone of her race to be willingly allowed on a ship like this. It made her very hesitant to board the it now. What kinds of shores would this one takes her to?

While public segregation was slowly being abolished, that did not prevent most white-owned businesses from reminding Zelda that she was _not_ welcomed. And with the whole Missile Scare between the US and the Soviets a few weeks prior, the tension in the air had become downright electric.

After all, they are walking the tightrope of a third world war.

Swallowing her unease, it took all the maid's effort to tear her eyes away from the ship and studied her coffee; the black liquid was long past cold but try as she might, she just could not muster any interest in the caffeinated contents. She suspected it was day old anyway; it smelled stale. Glancing at her watch yet again, her suspicions growing with every tick of the minute hand. Maybe it's _because_ of the Cold War that Hoffstetler is not showing up. Maybe this was for the best. Perhaps it was safer for all of them if he took the Asset and never returned.

With that thought in mind, she looked up and mustered her most sympathetic gaze to her silent best friend. She hated situations like these, but she hated seeing Elisa disappointed as well.

But if the band aid had to come off, might as well be from her.

"He's late, hon."

As usual though, Elisa met her eyes, as stubborn as ever. That same stubbornness was what got them into this whole mess to begin with. With a confident nod, the youngest of the trio resumed her folding and refolding of the napkin.

"Elisa… Sweetheart…" Zelda tried, enveloping her hands over the other woman's', "I want to _believe_ the doctor as much as you do… Hell, Giles and I both—"

"…he did kill that guard…" Her booth neighbor murmured.

She shushed him, "We both want what's best for your- uh, _our_ friend. But, with everything going on between the USSR and Cuba… could it be that _maybe_ , just maybe the doctor will return him to the wild _without_ our help?"

Elisa's dark eyes met hers then and she knew that look; that lift of the chin, the squaring of the shoulders and flinched internally.

 _"I know that this seems like a difficult ordeal. But I believe in the Doctor. He will come."_ She signed confidently, " _I am sure of it."_

"I know he's a good, man, Elisa," she agreed logically, "and _I believe_ that he will do what it takes to help _Him_ get home. But _maybe_ it'd be better if we… you know _, weren't_ involved? I mean, we barely got out of this mess the first time around. And with that whole mess in Florida, whew boy!"

Next to her, Giles made a sound of agreement, but no more. As much as Zelda wanted to, she couldn't blame him. Elisa was his only friend as well. And while he was never happy about her steadfast position with the doctor, he made it apparent he would support her, and if necessary, protect her from the unknown.

"I will go wherever she goes." He had told her one evening, while packing his bags, "But don't get me wrong, I am going to complain the whole time." As he stuffed his art supplies into a briefcase.

Zelda had peeked into the hallway, looking into the apartment next door. The police tape had been torn apart and Elisa was also hurriedly throwing her belongings into a suitcase, not caring a fig about folding or making sure everything was orderly.

The doctor was standing at the dining room table, pouring over multiple manila folders, organizing and reorganizing different files. Five passports laid open near by and when he was satisfied with one file, he would lay one of them on it and move to the next.

The maid was conflicted as all get out. On the one hand, he had done nothing really to her nor Elisa personally to earn distrust, his help with the Amphibian Man has been extraordinary and he did arrive, (albeit late) when she called him for help.

On the other, he was a white man and generations of abuse and slavery made her hyper aware of his position of power over them all. She, Elisa, hell, even Giles were all fish out of water when it came to societal norms.

Not only that but it was downright suspicious that he'd have all this money for five people to "take a nice cruise to south America;" passports with different identities for each of them and was often tight lip about when inquired of how exactly he procured such oddities.

The good doctor seemed as silent as Elisa about a lot of things these days, often changing the topic when it came to his nationality. Yes, he was Russian, but he never really went into too many details other than being a scientist working for the American government.

"I'm a scientist who was transferred from Wisconsin. Before that, Houston. Before that… I was a professor in Moscow…" He would answer. And that would be that; nothing more, nothing less. But soon Zelda became all too aware of how his mouth would do that weird quirk deal when asked to elaborate for more details he'd drop his eyes and dip his head as if to duck out of the conversation entirely before changing the topic. His discomfort was damn near tangible.

Knowing that her discomfort was based purely on suspicion, Zelda kept her thoughts to herself in front of Elisa. Anything to do with the Asset, and Elisa would probably walk barefoot into hell for it. But how far would that loyalty get her in this half-brained scheme? How far would Giles go for her?

Again, Zelda's gaze crept the ship; happy-go-lucky tourists boarding it with the promise of tropical paradises and sunbaked beaches. The promise of escaping the brutal Boston winters. What kind of promises would someone such as her be met with if she climbed that deck?

Like an anchor weighing down her heart single thought churned over and over in her head: _How far will my own loyalty get me when I board that boat?_

* * *

Thank you so much on the comments and follows. They inspire me to be a better writer. :)


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